


Iridescence

by RachaelBmine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel/Man relationship, Dean Has A Wing Kink, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Knife injury, M/M, Male Slash, My First Destiel Fanfic, Other, POV Castiel, POV Dean Winchester, Smut, Vampires, Wing Kink, wing!kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-01-20 05:56:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1499161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RachaelBmine/pseuds/RachaelBmine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam have been hunting and trying to make things like they use to be, all the while trying to keep seals from being broken. Their relationship has been distant and it is putting a stain on them both. Their latest hunt is a job gone bad against some blood sucking sons-of-bitches and Dean ends up injured. Pain, fatigue, and lonliness pushes Dean to the edge of his feelings for Castiel, his guardian angel. Castiel, a celestial being, is well aware of how he feels about Dean Winchester, but understands the complications that come along with choosing a companion at all, let alone one of mankind. When things come crashing down in this chaotic time both the man and the angel have a decision to make.</p><p>*Haven't updated in a long time and I am not sure that I will*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Are you here Dean?

**Author's Note:**

> None of the Supernatural characters or episode related storylines belong to me. Any other locations, characters, and conversations are fictional and by no means meant to represent any person, place, or thing. This is all for your enjoyment.
> 
> My first SPN fic ever. I hope you like it! Leave crit at the bottom so I can improve as I explore this new world. Sadly beta-less.

"Dean." He jerked awake at the sound of Castiel's voice. He looked around and shivered, pulling his jacket together, fighting back the cold that was trying to creep into his bones. Sam glanced over at him as he slowly swung the impala into another crappy parking lot in front of yet another crappy motel. It was cold in Indiana this time of year and that only made his bruise muscles ache all the more. He hated vampires almost as much as he hated witches and the nest they had just busted up was particularly nasty. An old farm outside of Lafayette was the perfect place for a nest to squat. It had a decent sized barn that use to house chickens for meat; with any luck the vamps would have sectioned each large coral off into living quarters. Which could mean a little more privacy while he and Sam sent each of those monsters to the slaughter. Bobby got the second hand tip from a "trustworthy" source and he insisted the boys check it out. A group of ten had settled in was what the source said. Ten was a small enough group for him and Sam to take out alone; there was definitely no need for Bobby to drive all the way to Lafayette to help. Or so they thought. After successfully taking out the watch crew and making it into the rear entrance of the barn, things went south. Way south. They could not have prepared for what they met once inside and were overpowered after fighting like hell for a whole hour. Dean realized too late that those sick bastards, all forty of them, thought it would be fucking awesome to turn the great Winchester brothers rather than just kill them. He was pinned face down by a group of howling vamps, all boasting about being the nest that "Took down the Winchesters!" Above the cheering and the chaos, above everything, he could hear Sam. Sam was off to Deans right fighting frantically and screaming his brother’s name, nearly tossing the group of eight blood suckers off of himself in his rage. They wanted Sam to watch Dean turn. Dean gritted his teeth when felt a hot searing pain shoot across his left shoulder as a knife sliced his skin open. So this is it? The Dean Winchester was finally becoming the evil he hunts. Irony is one selfish bitch. His eyes snapped open. Sam. The thought of his little brother becoming this, possibly at his own hands, filled his gut with rage and sorrow. Dean twisted and bucked against the weight on his back, "Cas!" he bellowed, the sound emanating from deep in his gut. Suddenly there was a searing light that made him instinctively squeeze his eyes shut. He knew full well what came with that light, so terrible and powerful. His angel. Castiel. The vamps shrieked, tried to flee, or clawed at their eyes in futile attempts to stop the pain that now consumed them. None were spared.

"I'll get the key, ok?" Sam's weary voice interrupted Dean’s thoughts. He could only nod his head. He had gotten the worst of it but he knew Sam was sore and bruised just like he was. The plan had been Sam's and it was fucking flawless, much better than many of the plans he had ever come up with. Had the tip been accurate they would have been in, out, and back in the motel in two hours. Dean would have never needed to call on his angel. After the burning light of Castiel dissipated Dean opened his eyes to look at him. There had been a shimmering darkness around the angel, almost surrounding his human vessel. Wings? Had Dean just seen Cas' wings? "Sam, Dean? Are you alright?" Castiel asked, deep voice resonating across the quiet room. He moved toward where Dean was still lying on the dirt floor of the barn. "I must leave you... I was in the midst of important business when you called Dean." he said, kneeling down, as his thoughtful eyes peered at Dean. Castiel, so ordinary looking in his dark suit and tan trench coat, was never fazed by his "smiting" of their enemies because it came as naturally to him as breathing did to Sam and Dean. The brothers looked around, there were headless bodies everywhere but none of the usual thick black blood in sight. The piercing burning light had sliced through their necks and cauterized any vessel that may have wanted to drip any of that vile fluid. "Go. We're fine Cas, honestly." Sam groaned as he hauled his heavy frame from the floor. Cas nodded and looked back at Dean before he disappeared with a gust of wind and the sound of wings beating. 

"Dean!" The sudden sound made Dean jerk back to reality, slamming his shin against the leather dash. "Son-of-a-bitch! Sammy!" he yelled and winced as the deep cut on his left shoulder threatened to open up again. "Are you here Dean? I said I got the key." Sam said furrowing his brow. He didn’t miss the look of concern that tightened across his brother’s face. Lately, outside of “Apocalypse Prevention Planning” and doing the job, they had not been very chatty. Initially Dean thought it was the whole Alastair mess that was eating away at them. They hadn’t brought it up. Sam seemed distant, fidgety, and distracted which reminded Dean of an addict. Sam was a fiend for something, Dean just hadn't pinpointed what. Ruby had been missing for weeks now, good riddance, and if she showed her face Dean would put her own knife through it. Maybe he could just have Cas suck the life from her with his bare hands. That'd be classier. Either way, in his current condition, he was in no position to take the bitch on. Dean wrenched himself from the low Impala seat with a painful groan and followed his little brother’s long frame towards their room for the night.


	2. Anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel stretches his wings.

Cas has always had strong feelings about Dean, if you’d call it feeling, and this had been crowding his thoughts lately. Celestial beings are not prone to human reactions to things; "emotions" being at the top of the list. This seemed to be something else, something stronger than the flakiness of human emotion. His eyes squinted thoughtfully as the last rays of light spilled over the horizon, blanketing the low set buildings with color. The sky resembled the pulp of a blood orange, burnt hues streaking upwards to touch the fading clouds. It would soon shift in colors toward the darkest of purples and blues adorned with twinkling diamonds. He thought about the "feeling" again and concluded that it was what humanity called love. Angels are not strangers to companionship or even love but this was different. Dean is human. Angelic and human companionship is a thing of legend. As far back as creation of mankind there have been stories of angels and humans falling in love, the condition and whereabouts of these angels are unknown. Castiel dropped his chin to his chest and sighed. Dean. At least he was positive about one thing: he would do anything for Dean Winchester.

After the events of the evening he felt a slight drag on his mortal vessel. He flexed his back and extended his great wings above his head. The evening sunlight reflected against them iridescently, like oil on pavement. Castiel hummed with pleasure as the sun warmed the long black feathers. Each individual feather tingled and ruffled under the rays warming touch. Purple reflected light swam across his plumage, followed by midnight blue and a deep metallic green. Heavenly bodies that possessed feathers were always taught keep them hidden from sight when in contact with humans as it was usually overwhelming for their fragile minds to witness. Allowing a mortal being to actually touch them was close to forbidden. There was no law, but it was considered taboo, due to how intimate such an act would be. Angel wings are extremely sensitive to touch. Castiel had allowed Dean to see them several times for just a heartbeat, just barely wavering from their usual imperceptible countenance. Much to Castiel’s disappointment the man had dismissed it as imagination or the blurred vision in the heat of battle on each occasion. He had not reacted in fear however and that left room for hope. Hope? What did he hope for? For a man to open himself to something as severe and beautiful as love from an angelic being? Often, when standing close to Dean, he could feel the man’s hidden emotions seeping from his body. Dean accused him of using “angel mojo” to read his mind but how could Cas explain to a man that his every emotion and thought, and even desire dripped from him like sweat? 

Castiel’s thoughts drifted to the days he spent watching over Dean in the hospital. Since that day, since Alastair, he felt responsible for Dean’s pain. Asking those things of Dean had been excruciating, but he had seen no other way. How could he have been so blind to Uriel’s tricks? After, he had stood as an unwavering sentinel in the harshly lit hospital room, unnoticed by everyone but Sam. The cold mannered nurses were constantly moving around, touching Dean with their rough hands as he slept. They smelled of antiseptic and blood. And, be damned if he didn’t want to rip away that tube they had shoved down the man’s throat. Each night he would stand close and rest a hand on Dean’s expressionless face or card his fingers through his hair. He met Dean in his dreams as he often did when they were apart. It was more difficult during chemically induced sleep but every shared moment was worth it. Castiel alone remembered these stolen moments in Dean’s subconscious. Moments of unfiltered honesty. “Cas…” It begins as a tingle when Dean calls for him. During dangerous moments, when Dean or Sam’s life is on the line, it’s more of a sting from a wasp. “Cas,” the call came again, tingling behind his ear adding to the sensation of his sun drenched wings. His eyelids slid down almost involuntarily. This was not a desperate call of a man in danger or backed into an impossible situation. The way Dean spoke his name was shaky, uncertain, and full of need. “Cas…” The weakened whisper played at his ear as if Dean was there next to him, warm lips nearly touching his skin. He flexed his mighty appendages once more, stretching them out to their fullness, an impressive sixteen feet across. He didn’t preen himself often so any chance he had to spread his wings, uncloaked in all their beauty, he took it. With a slow effortless beat he was off the edge of the skyscraper and in the air. The bleeding sky was breathtaking from this vantage point among the clouds. If only Dean could witness this sumptuous sight. The image of Dean there with him, gripping his back for dear life, flitted through his mind and a smile played across his lips. He knew where Sam and Dean were, they were safe, but Dean called to him, and he would do anything for Dean Winchester. Anything.


	3. You called me Dean

Sam sunk down onto one of the full beds and pulled out the med kit to put a few stitches in Deans shoulder after they got their bags settled. “Here we go,” Sam said with less confidence than he had planned. Dean gripped the polyester bed sheets but it did nothing to reduce the pain of needle pulling thread through torn flesh. Cas. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it and settled on staring at the monochromatic chevron patterned walls. Sammy was always good at things like this, patching Dean and even himself up after a rough job. If Castiel were here he could just… A low growl escaped his chest before he could even stop it. “Almost done,” Sam said in reply, then followed sarcastically with “and then you get your lollipop.” As tired as he was he couldn’t help but smirk at Sam’s attempts to lighten the mood. Pain was nothing new to him; his time in hell ensured that, but his constant thoughts about the angel where new. Very new. He imagined Cas there with them in the room, standing next to the table and burning holes into Dean with his eyes. Dean shifted on the overly soft bed as Sam finished up and murmured something about getting a shower. It felt awkward not having Castiel around for the past week. Dean had grown so use to having his angel, literally, within arm’s reach at all times. Cas was still learning about personal space and other boundaries, there was definitely an angelic learning curve. He realized he had a drowsey grin on his face after Sam coughed and raised an eyebrow at him. Right. Shower.

Alone in the bathroom, shower running, Dean examined the bruises that were already darkening under his smooth pale skin. “Shit,” he thought indignantly “that is not sexy.” Castiel could make all of this fade just by touching him with a couple of fingers. “Cas,” fell from his lips involuntarily, sounding almost like a hiss. He pressed he eyes closed in hopes of chasing Cas from his mind but all he thought about was the angels healing touch. Dean gripped the edges of the small sink as he felt that familiar twitch in his groin. He looked down with a mixture of disbelief and annoyance. Stepping into the hot stream of water seemed to wash some of the tension in his back away. The bandage was getting soaked, and Sam was going to be so pissed, but Dean needed this. His angel was nowhere to be found so he would take what he could get. His hands rubbed soap absent mindedly over his sore chest and up over his hair that had gotten a bit too long. The water was so hot it burned as it hit his skin and trickled down his legs. Every knotted muscle in his body began to relax which released all of the residual adrenaline that remained in his body. Weakened, his legs gave way and he collapsed on the tile shower floor. “Cas” he nearly sobbed. Dean braced himself on his knees, fists pressing into the black and white tile. What was going on? Why did he feel this pull in his chest? He couldn’t breathe; each inhale stung on its way in and seemed to get stuck on the way out. He closed his eyes against the hot water flowing over his body. Was he dying? No, not dying, desperate. Another sob that refused to be stifled broke up out of his chest. It rocked him to his manly core. He needed Castiel, his angel, his protector, and he could not deny it any longer. This yearning consumed him and he collapsed onto his side, pain from battle shooting through his body. “Cas” he pushed the name out through gritted teeth. “Hello Dean,” the voice rolled like thunder, seemingly amplified in the small bathroom. Dean realized the water was off and he lay in almost a fetal position. The bathroom was still hot and full of steam even when the shower stall was completely dry. Castiel was somehow sharing the stall space with Dean as he was kneeling beside him. Dean could feel his face heat up, if that was even possible in the already sauna like bathroom. Castiel, as usual, saw this reaction and cocked his head just a bit. “You called me Dean, did you not?” Dean painfully raised himself to a seated position. “Shit Cas. I, uh… I just- I, um” mumbled words fell from his lips “well- yes.” Castiel smiled slightly, feeling proud that Dean got even those words out. The angel could feel every thought pouring from Dean’s body. Shame because of his bodies weakened state, embarrassment at being naked in Cas’ presence, and the yearning that Dean was desperately trying to hide. “Dean you have no reason to be ashamed or embarrassed,” Cas stated matter-of-factly “you nearly died today.” He hesitated for a moment before saying “Yet, still you are a perfect specimen of my father’s creation.” Dean let an awkward laugh escape his lips and he avoided Cas’ deep blue eyes at all costs. “Did Cas just call me sexy?” He thought in disbelief. Ok, customary tough guy response, “Well I am _the_ Dean Winchester.” Nailed it. Castiel smiled gently at the man in front of him. So beautiful and yet so broken. Cas stuck his hand under Deans elbows and helped him push off the floor to a standing position. “Dean, do not move. I will get you a towel.” Dean looked down at himself and noticed he was completely dry already, which seemed impossible with the heat and the steam that lingered in the bathroom perpetually. He also noticed that his cock had woken up just a bit at Castiel’s gentle words. He rolled his eyes and let his head rest against the warm shower stall.

Suddenly Cas was back in the space of the shower stall with Dean which made Dean jump back out of his thoughts. “Dean, you want me to heal you, am I right?” he asked with narrowed eyes. All attempts at playing tough only resulted in lightning bolts of pain shooting across his back and abdomen so Dean just said "If its not too much to ask," still not meeting Castiel’s eyes. He was not prepared to drown in them just yet. This changed immediately when he felt Cas’ warm hand press solidly against his bare chest. Dean looked directly into those sapphire points in front of him and his breath quickened and turned shallow. Cas’ right hand reach towards Dean’s face. Ever. So. Slowly. Each second seemed like long excruciating minuets to Dean, it was all he could do to not lean into that hand. He needed this touch so badly his knees felt weak. He looked and saw the affectionate smile playing at the corners of the angel’s face and it made his anxiety melt away.  
Finally, as skin touched skin, warmth flooded Dean’s entire body. Dean felt sparks shoot through his limbs and his head fell back and made a loud thump against the wall. If it hurt he didn't feel it. All Dean could feel were the sparks in his thighs and calves, the tingle in his abdomen, and the heat across his back. His tightly closed eyes witnessed an illumination of white and red and his mouth fell open as a moan forced its way out. His back arched forward as the deepest kinks were pulled apart. There was another wave of sparkling warmth that radiated out of Castiel’s hand on Dean’s chest and it flowed down like a waterfall into the deepest parts of his body. His toes curled and he tried to catch his breath but another rebellious moan chose to take its exit from his mouth. How could he, Dean Winchester, be so easily dissolved? Fireworks still played behind his eyelids as the heat and the electricity in his limbs dissipated. Cas had removed his hands from Dean’s body at some point during the process but Dean couldn’t give a damn to recall when. Dean opened his eyes and saw that his hands had a firm twisted grip on Cas’ shirt collar. Cas himself could care less. In actuality the angel had that wide, amazing, rarely seen, smile on his face. Dean panted and stood still in hopes of catching his breath and slowing his wild heart down. “You bastard,” is all he could get out for several minutes. “Jesus, I’m not sure if that was you healing me or the best orgasm I’ve had in my life” he smirked and glanced up at Castiel. “It was both Dean.” Castiel smiled wider obviously proud of his work. What? Dean looked down at the hot cum dripping down his right leg. “Damn.” He had barely spoken before his legs buckled under him, nearly taking Cas down with him.

The softness beneath him was startling. Blackness engulfed him and the room began to spin at a nauseating speed. “You can let go now Dean.” That rolling baritone vibrated through the hunter’s arms providing a point of focus that stopped the room’s movement. Dean focused his eyes on Castiel leaning over him as he lay on the bed still gripping the shirt. “Cas…” Dean let go of the shirt after his voice trailed off. It was so dark. His eyes squinted at what looked like moving shadows around Castiel. The aura was so black it swallowed the shadows of the room; his blurry tired eyes were swimming in the deepest black imaginable. “Cas is that…” he mumbled as he reached out to touch, no melt into the inkwells behind his angel. “Yes Dean, now rest, you need it.” Their faces were so close he could feel the blow of breath across his face with each syllable. As he drifted into unconsciousness there was a tingle across his eyebrow. Had he a bit more steam in his engine he may have realized that Castiel had gently brushed his lips across each of his closed eyelids.


	4. It's just us Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's beautiful nightmare

Dean could tell immediately when he was dreaming “about” Castiel and when he was dreaming “with” Castiel. When imaginary Cas was in his dreams, or the nightmares that he had so often, he had a softer side. He listened to Dean, only said what the man wanted to hear, and the son-of-a-bitch definitely didn’t up and disappear on him. He even had a soft kind of glow to him, to his skin, like he was lit by candle light internally. It’s weird, a barely noticeable projection of his subconscious, but still weird. When he dreamt _with_ Castiel, with him actually invading his mind space (again) he was almost exactly as he is in reality. Just… bigger. Seriously. Castiel appeared to be just a bit taller, a bit stronger, a bit more everything. Cas had said something about the mind being unconstrained by the eyes reality. He said my mind was “attempting to seek out” his true form but that it was impossible for my human mind to fathom. Yeah, because that made total fucking sense. Those dreams were almost always impossible to differentiate from real life but Cas always told him when he was dreaming. Good ol’ Cas. This dream featured the imaginary Cas, understanding, always there, and never a dick.

It was midday and the sun reflected off the lake giving it the appearance of liquid silver. Dean sat on the overgrown grass on the bank staring out at it without a single thought floating through his mind. No thoughts of blood sucking bastards, none of demons, and none of the looming apocalypse. The breeze felt like cool fingers sliding across his face, smoothing the creases in his forehead and pulling his eyelids down. He stretched out and lounged back on his elbows, letting the warm light spill over his body. His plaid shirt hung open allowing his chest to soak in the life of it all, sun, breeze, and the sound of water lapping against the rocks near the bank. He heard a group of birds take flight nearby, the wings fluttering sounded like a particular angel he knew so well. The loss of sunlight as a shadow cast over him made him open his lazy eyes. There was no urgency in his movements because he knew exactly who had just appeared before him. He was silhouetted against the sun, all shoulders and tension under that overcoat, as Dean looked up at him. “Cas,” he said in the smooth deep voice of a totally unconstrained man. He could almost feel Castiel’s eyebrows knit together in thought and that made a smile play at the corner of his mouth. “Come on man. Sit down.” He said with a pat on the soft grass next to him. “Wait! Lose the coat. Now.” Even with his eyes closed he could see Cas’ every movement, how he removed his coat with a huff and folded it neatly, and how he sat down next to him with his arms resting on his knees. “Are you enjoying the sun Dean?” Cas said in that gravelly voice. He could feel Cas next to him. “As a matter of fact I am. This sun feels amazing on the skin man, you should try it.” This of course elicited a angel head tilt followed by “I should remove my clothes?” Dean sat up and laughed, “Whoa, down boy!” He looked over and met Castiel’s sapphire eyes and his breath caught in his throat. Against the perfectly blue sky his eyes looked… hell, angelic. Dean’s eyes darted down to the tiny purple flowers that covered the grass in splashes around them. His heart thumped in his chest and he placed his right hand across his chest to settle it. The clouds began to move across the astonishingly blue sky and off in the distance there seemed to be a few darker ones, like a storm was coming “What is it?” Cas narrowed his eyes at him and added “It’s just us Dean.” 

“I, um… I don’t know Cas. The job… I don’t know exactly what I’m feeling lately.” Cas didn’t respond. Dean let himself fall flat with his arm resting over his eyes. Emotions always made him nervous and maybe just a little shy. Dean sucked at expressing them, really sucked. He couldn’t do it with Bobby, who thank god was just like him, and he couldn’t do it with Sam, who always tried. Castiel sucked at it because he is not human so he doesn’t have emotions like the rest of us clay figures, but he did try. If an angel made good attempts at relating to “lesser creatures” and Dean could not, then what does that say? Dean assumed that it just proved him to be a dick of human being. “It’s hard when you’re not around...” he mumbled, “you know for backup.” A cold breeze that made him shiver blew over him. He moved to pull his shirt across his chest and sighed “You can join to conversation any time Cas.” He felt Cas move closer to him and place his hand on Dean stomach which made him pause in closing his shirt. The warm hand inched its way across each of Dean’s strong abdominal muscles ever so slowly, sending a shiver through the man’s frame. “Cas?” he whispered breathlessly, desperately needing an explanation but unwilling to raise his voice in fear of stopping the moment. No answer. Castiel’s rough hand began moving up towards Dean’s chest, pushing his shirt up higher for better access. Blood rushed each and every way in the man’s body. Dean’s fist clenched when Cas made it to his upper body and brushed over his nipple. Now both hands moved across his chest and the muscles contracted involuntarily to the point of pulsation. Blood continued to rush as his cock quickly thickened, also involuntary… Suddenly, Cas grabbed both of Dean’s shoulders and swung a leg over him, pinning him down. Dean’s eyes snapped open because, goddamit, how can one movement be a helluva turn-on but also frightening as hell? 

His eyes adjusted to the sunlight just as Alistair’s fist collided with his cheek bone with a hard snapping sound and pain shot through his face. No, this can't be happening. That sticky voice oozed out of Alistair’s bloodied mouth, “you’ve got a lot to learn,” as he wrapped his cold hands around Dean’s neck. No. He swung his arms and kicked he legs wildly. “Ca…” was all he could get out as he was being strangled. The sky was now full of threatening grey clouds that rolled rapidly across the sky. “Boy.” That sick voice drew the word out like mucus, increasing the panic that was lodged in the Dean’s throat. Cas. Air couldn't get through Alistair’s vice grip around his neck and he so desperately needed a breath. He kicked. The demon’s face was sinister as he laughed vehemently with thick ropes of blood dripping onto his victim’s face. Dean’s vision drifted in and out of focus as a flash lit the sky behind Alistair; that bastard who was supposed to be dead. This is it. The blackened clouds rolled angrily above, expressing their displeasure in his weakness, his incompetence. How had this happened? He had let his guard down with Cas because he yearned for the closeness, the intimacy, and look where is got him. Up shits creek. Tears rolled down his cyanotic face and his mind told his limbs that their fight was over. The clap of thunder was so loud it shook the ground beneath him like an earthquake. “Dean! Dean, calm down!” he heard the voice but couldn't find it. He realized he was screaming and thrashing and gasping for a breath. “Dean, it’s Sam. Damnit Dean, calm down!” yelled Sam from the foot of the bed. Sam had his arms stretched out in front of him with his palms wide. He knew the drill, they both did, for when the nightmares came. Lights on, hands up and open, and identify yourself in low soothing tones. He looked around and realized he was seated on the bed in the crappy hotel room they had checked into just a few hours ago. The lights were on and he saw the sheets had twisted around his body tightly from his efforts to fight his way out of the nightmare. Dean’s sweaty chest heaved as his lungs greedily took in big gulps of air. “Dean… you can put that down now.” Sam said with his “what the fuck Dean” furrowed brow. He was, of course, totally justified as Dean was still brandishing the twelve inch Bowie knife that he always kept close as he slept. He took a few more seconds to insure that that evil mother fucker, Alistair, wasn't hiding in a shadow just waiting to drag his ass back to hell. “Sammy?” Dean managed to croak despite his mouth feeling like sandpaper. Sam grabbed a glass from the counter of the kitchenette and filled it with tap water. He placed the water on the end table that was positioned between their headboards and moved to sit back on his bed that was to the right of Dean’s. Smart move Sammy. His brother might be a lot of things but stupid wasn’t one of them. If he had tried to wake his older brother while standing by his bed, Dean in his fear and adrenalin driven rage, would have gutted him with that substantially sized blade. “It’s okay Dean. It’s just us.” Sam clicked the lamp after they both settled back into their beds. Dean’s breath slowed and his heart rate returned to something you could call normal. He closed his eyes and prayed for simple peaceful dreams that didn’t turn into gut wrenching nightmares, all the while gripping his Bowie underneath the pillow. Dean didn’t dream for the rest of the night, however, he could hear a deep whispering voice in the darkness, speaking to him, lulling him into a bottomless pool of unconsciousness.


	5. Disgraced Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel ponders the past, the present, and the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter doesn't flow well. I did it in a hurry and it is technically still being written. Will be done in a day or two.

Castiel had found it harder and harder to concentrate during these past few weeks. There were too many things happening that were causing him to question the unwavering faith he put in his leaders and his assignments. The line between honorable heavenly mission and greedy self-promotion was beginning to blur, what was once black and white had reached a sickly grayish color. He found himself sitting alone often, on park benches and atop sky scrapers, just to clear the chatter and confusion that was constantly streaming across the “radio” waves. This time, Castiel had taken post in one of his favorite places, a large city park in Lafayette. The moon and street lamps lit the grounds well enough to see the other side of the park, not that he needed light to see. Uriel had destroyed every drop of confidence he had within him. “I am an angel of the Lord…” Castiel coughed out a defeated laugh as he recalled how sure he was of that statement as he said it the first time he meet Dean Winchester. His blind obedience, or maybe ignorance, had carried such power. Anna, while she had saved his life and put the traitor Uriel down, refused to provide help or guidance. He sat on the bench and watched a pair of walkers pass by, hands entwined, the slow careless stroll of the blissfully unaware. Zachariah had a plan in place, since he was the closest thing to leadership that they had at the moment. That didn’t mean that Castiel was comfortable with them; particularly the part that called for the possible deaths of one or both of the Winchesters. He was so at odds with this thought that his vessel would break into cold sweats whenever they discussed it.

He knew that he would need to choose a path eventually, be it Heaven or Humanity, but he could not – would not – think about it right now. Following orders was much easier and it was what he was made to do. The Winchesters were completely at odds with anything that the archangels suggested which made the choice that much more difficult… Or maybe it made it easier. He would do whatever Dean asked him to do in most cases and that made him appear to be a weak link in the garrison. “But is that not what our father created us for,” he begged before his brothers and sisters? “Our father is dead Castiel,” the words had ripped through him “the sooner you understand that the better.” Which angel in the garrison could argue with Zachariah and Raphael? They were they eldest and therefore in charge after their father had disappeared so Castiel resigned to following the orders given to him. The last thing he wanted was to cause dissension in the ranks. He is, after all, just a soldier, a grunt. There was no grand plan put in place for him. He would die following orders.

“Clear your head Castiel,” he thought as his frustration grew. Castiel needed Dean in times like this to discuss the problem and come up with solutions. Dean never failed to find the “dick” in the problem. Who was lying and who may be using Cas for their own benefit. He really needed Dean… surprisingly, that fact never made him feel weak or confused like he did when he was with his brothers and sisters. His siblings did nothing but berate and ridicule him for his love for humanity and Dean Winchester. They tell him the stories of the “disgraced angels” at the beginning of the human time line. Angels that were sent to help the humans after the garden was closed and fell in love with them. These angels chose to remain on earth coexist with the men of the earth, leaving behind only legend. Castiel still remembered the horror stories that were described: the angels died and were not allowed in to heaven so they ended up in purgatory, or the worst story yet, they found out they would not die but had to live on forever while their loved ones perished. His siblings only made him feel more conflicted so Dean was the one “steady” thing he had, not that you could call Dean steady. Dean was undoubtedly strong, and as resilient as massive ship riding violent waves in the raging sea. Which, of course, was the problem: Dean’s sea was always raging and crashing violently. The storm was always taking out anyone who dared to come near. Castiel thought about when Dean chose not to destroy him, but allowed him to get close. The warmth of the man’s trust and devotion more than made up for his roughness and insensitivity of Castiel’s… “feelings.”

Cas rested his head back on the hard wooden bench as his mind ran this way and that. His wings cramped in the small space until he gently spread them across the length of the seat. His grace and his wings were not of this world and did not follow the rules of this world either. With a simple thought they became incorporeal which made it easier to stretch them without hindrance. They could also be visible but intangible, much like a hologram, or tangible and invisible. Cas thought about showing Dean this one day, without shame or hesitation. Suddenly, he jumped from his seat as a scream resonated loudly around him. Cas knew immediately that this scream was all in his mind and not in the park he stood in. Some of the most desperate prayers came through even when he has his angel radio turned off and of course he would never turn the Winchester’s prayer channel off. This cry sounded wounded and desperate… It sounded like Dean. His wings instinctively flung themselves out, ready for flight. The gust of wind that accompanied the sudden appearance of these massive appendages shoved the branches of the surrounding trees back effortlessly. The walking couple was caught up in the swirl of the wind, the young man held on to his hat and pulled his girlfriend closer. They both giggled and looked around curiously but within a blink of an eye Cas was in the air and gone.

Castiel showed up in the motel the Winchesters were staying in just in time to see Dean putting away his knife. Sam was always able to calm Dean after the horrid nightmares the man had, and vice versa. Both hunters were haunted by memories and the fear of what was to come. Honestly, if Cas slept, he would be in the same boat as the boys. Sam brought water to Dean’s bedside and they both slid back into bed in hopes to catch a few more hours of sleep. Sam seemed well but Dean looked exhausted, even after Castiel had healed him there was something that still always weighed on his shoulders and tonight it showed across his face more than any other night. Since he was not need chose to stay out of sight as to not disturb the men as they got their rest. Dean reached up with a sigh and clicked the lamp off. Cas knew Dean would be unable to fall asleep for some time. This is how it always went. He observed the first few times, just watching the sleeping and dreaming patterns the two men had. Sam had nightmares just as, if now more, frequently than Dean but he rarely woke up violently. If left untouched, Sam would just twist and fight his blankets until he jerked himself upright and awake. Once the youngest absorbed his surroundings he would slowly sink back into sleep and not stir for the remainder of the night. Dean however would wake violently at least once per week and spend hours tossing and turning in his bed before he could sleep again; gun or knife never straying far from his hand.Cas had slowly gained the courage to move closer to Dean, night after night, in hopes of soothing him back to sleep. He worried that, while he was invisible, Dean could sense his presence and realize what he was up to because Dean, a handful of times, had looked around the darkened hotel rooms as if he had heard something but eventually he stopped doing that, possibly passing it off as his own personal insanity.This gave Cas the confidence he needed. He became braver as time passed and now he stood by Dean’s bed nearly every night and shared thoughts with him. He would speak to Dean’s mind softly, lulling him into a dreamless rest that would keep him unconscious for the rest of the night. He never had to use his grace, he felt that would be cheating, and only used his voice. He whispered promises and affirmations to Dean, it was the only time he could express the way he truly felt for the man that lay before him. The only time he knew Dean could really listen.


	6. The Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Free Will on the hunt

As light began to peek through the window it found both of the Winchester men in their beds still unconscious to the world. The motels they usually crashed at were very modest. All they really needed was two beds (most of which were too small for Dean’s moose of a brother), a bathroom, a kitchen (mostly just a fridge to keep their beers cold), and proof that the place was regularly cleaned. This room fit the bill. Interior design was never a top priority so most of the holes looked as if a 70’s tv show drank too much tequila and puked up the entire decade into it. There was always garish wallpaper that matched the bed covers, and green, brown, or orange carpet. The sunshine on the walls made this room look like some kind of carnival fun house. The black and white zigzags seemed to crawl across the wall if you stare at it long enough. The rays spilled through the, sadly non-blackout, curtains in a teasing attempt to wake the sleeping residents. The brothers would normally be up around six each morning, but after last night’s fiasco they were not in a rush to face the world. The job was done, almost fatally but done nonetheless. Dean flexed his lower limbs, fully anticipating as shock of pain to shoot through his legs. When pain didn’t rear its ugly head memories of Castiel’s hand on his chest flooded his mind. He rolled over and pulled the pillow over his head with a grunt. One more hour would hurt, so screw everything else.

Around eight Dean could hear Sam in the bathroom running water into the sink for his morning shave. The smell of dark roasted morning blend brewing in the coffee maker infiltrated the feathers and cotton that covered his head. Apparently his trusty pillow shield was a one trick pony, blocking out the light but betraying all other senses. His stomach protested the extra two hours of sleep vehemently, which was not surprising seeing as his mind and his digestive track never seemed to be on one accord. Dean’s appetite, much to Sam’s dismay, could literally drive him from his bed in the middle of the night in search for a nosh. This was a different protestation however because the brothers’ last meal was yesterday’s lunch. Dean inhaled, allowing his chest to expand and the aroma to fill his lungs completely. What kind of evil, spell casting brew was Sam making and why the hell did it suddenly also smell like bacon? Dean raised his head slightly and pushed the pillow back so he could get another full satisfying sniff. That is most definitely sliced and fried perfection he smelled. Sam was in the shower now, humming quietly as he always did when he thought Dean couldn't hear him. Dean rolled over onto his back and allowed himself to bask in the quiet moment. For just a thread in time it’s him and his little brother, road tripping, maybe headed out west to Vegas to catch one of those great classic rock cover bands. For just a glimmer of a second they were not running for their lives or trying to avoid being raped by a couple of archangel douche bags. Dean, for one wavering breath, could feign another life for him and Sam. _Damnit._ The folks in the adjoining room must be frying up a whole pound of pork with how the scent filled the room. “Hey Sammy,” he called out in his rugged morning voice pushing himself up on his elbows. “We’re going to have to go get some grub ‘cause I’m star-” his voice cut short as his eyes met that familiar sapphire stare. Castiel was standing by the small table across the room, apparently trying to just blend in. “Cas man, you have got to stop sneaking up on people!” Dean growled as he dropped back on the bed. “Good morning Dean.” Cas replied sheepishly, shifting his weight. “Well good morning to you too Sunshine. How long you been standing there creeping in the corner?” Dean replied with a smile. Castiel, feeling ambivalent about the statement, replied “I have not been… creeping, Dean. I have been standing here for only a moment.” 

“Alright, alright, don’t get your angel loin cloth in a bunch. I was only joking.” He said, throwing his hands in the air. 

Sam shuffled from the bathroom in his grey sweats and a towel tossed over his head. He headed straight for the kitchen and poured some Joe into a mug, which looked unrealistically small in his large hand. Sam leaned back against the low counter and eyed them both suspiciously, “Mornin’ Cas... Dean. What are you guys talking about?” 

“Dean just implied that I was-” 

“Just telling Cas how hungry I am, right Cas?” Dean cut in. 

“No Dean, you did not inform me of this verbally. However, your desire for bacon this morning is impossible to miss.” Castiel replied with narrowed eyes. 

“See?” Dean grinned at Sam. 

“Okay…” Sam pressed his lips together to suppress his amusement “I could go for a bite of something myself. Oh, and I think we may have a case.

The guys had moved themselves to the diner around the corner from the motel after Dean had complained about wanting bacon for a half an hour straight. He had accused Sam of primping and and keeping his hair entirely too long to prolong the process. Castiel mentioned something about patience that he completely ignored. After they sat down and breakfast was ordered the three men, well technically they _were_ all male, got to work. The table that was not very large so Sam took up one side with his long arms and legs, forcing Dean and Castiel to sit on the opposite side of the booth. He had dug up something weird on the web about a handful of teen girls ending up in the loony bin, one had recently committed suicide. This was all happening in a town just a couple hours from Lafayette, it would take no time to get there. Sam had a habit of looking for a job as soon as the last one was over. He liked to keep busy because if they didn’t work the memories and pain would just creep back into their minds, driving them all mad. Dean knew that remaining stagnant for too long also meant those who want to see them dead or reduced to meat suits would catch a scent and come hunting. This was their life; they did not get vacations like the civvies, no down time for the Winchesters.

"Alright, so four girls, all in there teens, are arrested for offing their fathers over the last six months." Sam started after their food was settled on the tables. "I mean seriously bloody killings," he shoved a whole sausage link into his mouth "the first girl ran a circular saw through her fathers back while he was working in the garage, the next one- get this- _beat her dad in the head with a sledge hammer_ until his head was completely smashed. The other two are just a bloody. I think we're dealing with some serious possession here." Sam took a mouthful of pancake and chewed gratefully. Turns out he had been just as hungry as Dean the entire time but research, as it always did, had distracted him. "It all sounds too specific to be a demon... So- what? A vengeful spirit with Daddy issues possessing teenage girls?" Dean asked after swallowing some of his meat lovers omelet. Castiel sat listening quietly as the two men discussed the case. He wanted to help but he knew that he was not a hunter. The Winchesters had grown up working cases and fighting monsters. Castiel was just another soldier of heaven, made to follow orders... His superior did not need him now and he had even encouraged him to stay close to Dean and gain his trust. Castiel did not understand the reasoning behind this because he and Dean already trusted each other completely. He was content to sit next to the hunter and listen has he and Sam bounced ideas off each other, ironing out the wrinkles in the case, as the two always did. He personally found it tedious but was always fascinated at the finesse that was the Winchester brothers on a case. He settled in and listened intently to Dean's words. "It's always fucking Daddy issues." Dean swore as he glance over at Cas looking for agreement. "That's what I was thinking-" Sam said after sipping his second cup of coffee of the day "- but it has to be a pretty nasty spirit for it to possess this many girls this quickly. I mean, moving from house to house, family to family- its getting some serious overtime here." Dean had worked through half of his plate in about three bites, putting far more than necessary into his mouth in Cas' opinion. 

"So whats these chicks got in common? What's the connection?" Dean said through a mouth full of egg and country ham. Sam shrugged his shoulders "The girls are all from the same area but attend different schools, different after-school activities," his fork came to his mouth and the brothers were silent with their thoughts for a moment. Castiel had unknowingly been staring at Dean's mouth for some time now. The hunter sat slightly hunched over his food, as if protecting it. He chewed each mouthful thoroughly, the muscles in his jaw flexing in their effort. "Cas?" Sam was looking at him with one eyebrow cocked. Dean stared at him blank faced with a lump of food in his cheek. "You look much like the rodent humans call a "chipmunk", Dean." This made Castiel smile although he was unsure why. "Now settle down their big guy, don't get too excited. You might pop a blood vessel," Dean snarked

"I don't understand, why would I -"

"Alright you two, can we just... go?" Sam had lost his patience with them. "I can finish the story on the way."


End file.
